Catch 22 Reapplied
by Neige Nivro
Summary: War, by virtue, required men to die. It was a matter of necessity. Which men died, however, was a matter of circumstance. And Harry was willing to be a victim of anything except circumstance. Eventual Slash


Title: Catch-22 Reapplied

Author: Nnej Nivroop

Rating: PG-13 for now

Characters: Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Hell, the whole cast and a few OC.

Ships: Harry/Draco at base.

Disclaimer: I actually do own Harry Potter. I own Catch-22 as well. Pay me. (J/k)

Summary: The fact that fighters would die was a matter of necessity; which fighters died, though, was a matter of circumstance, and Harry was willing to be a victim of anything except circumstance. But that was war.

A/N: I **will** take both direct and slightly altered quotes from the original Catch-22 at times. When that happens, you'll see a little at the beginning and end of it. I am not trying to pass Heller's writing as my own.

-----------------------------------------

Harold Porter let Harry through with little conversation.

The two knew each other extensively from The War. And now, more than two years later, they shared a similar feeling of camaraderie in that neither ever wanted to talk to the other for as long as they lived. It wasn't that the two didn't like each other, it was just that both would rather to not endure each other's company for longer than was directly necessary. And so the guard gave Harry his pass silently and, with a nod, the two parted company. Harry knew the way well enough by now anyways.

The years had torn at him, especially those spent on the front lines of The War. It was nothing particularly conspicuous or even physical that had been altered, but everyone around him could feel the unperceivable change; Harry had gotten decrepitly old by the time he was 27. This of course was unfortunate since it was widely suspected that after The War, he would be able to enjoy what was left of his youth. But apparently his youth had gotten sick and tired of waiting around to be enjoyed and left without leaving a note. Some people didn't realize this at first however; when Harry walked along outside, many young women ran up to him with fluttering eyelashes and sinful promises and were surprised when he turned them away with a contemptible sneer.

But really, it was their own fault for not being observant enough to realize he was far too old to be pursuing women his own age anymore. They were all so innocent and full of life that being with him would only rob them of their finest qualities. It was hardly fair. And, in a world where precious few things were fair, Harry insisted to do his part for the greater good. After awhile, few people noticed anymore however. Harry Potter's name once again fell into the pages of history books for various, awe-inspiring reasons and was rarely discussed again, by anyone that didn't know him of course. Those that knew him never discussed him at all.

Suddenly a recluse, Harry rarely was seen outside of his house (that would never be a proper home) and rarely ever seemed to be in his house when people came to call. In fact, many people--mostly his neighbors--began to suspect that Harry Potter didn't exist at all. It was a convincing theory and easily believed if one could explain his sudden reappearance once every other day as he got on the Knight Bus and traveled off to Azkaban for Everyone but God Knows What. Yes, without that strange occurrence, it would be simple to say that Harry Potter had just gotten killed in battle, but as it was, the neighbors were in need of a better theory.

'Maybe the answer has something to do with Azkaban', they conspired with the direst disinterest. 'Yes, it has to have something to do with that; why else would he go there so often?' they wondered, even though they all knew. The rumors and gossip were more entertaining than the truth, however, and many had to stop believing Harry Potter didn't exist long enough to believe that he was trying to break people out of Azkaban or other such nonsense.

And, while these ideas were entertaining, the truth told a far greater story to anyone patient enough to listen. The truth was that Harry went every other day to visit the only person who had realized how Harry had aged, years before it had even happened.

"_You're an old fart, you know? What happened to that Gryffindor optimism and sense of adventure you twats are famous for? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to be a Slytherin; either that or you're 80 years old inside. Personally, I prefer the former and suspect the latter."_

Harry smiled remembering that comment as he walked through the Azkaban hallways to the boy who had said it. He was the only person in the world that heard Harry's voice anymore and the only person in the world who responded to it. Many people envied this at first, but now rarely noticed. Well, anyone that didn't know Harry of course. The people that knew him noticed every single time.

Why had Harry picked Draco over them, his friends wondered--half insulted-- to themselves. But if they looked deep enough, they wouldn't have to wonder at all; the answer had been there before the question. In fact, the act of them wondering in the first place was symptomatic of the answer and one of the last things Harry had said to them was that he wouldn't tell them what the answer was until they had forgotten about it.

"But how will you know we have forgotten about it?" Ron had asked back irately.

"Because," Harry reasoned phlegmatically, "you'll have stopped asking me about it."

"But if we stop asking about it, how do we know you'll remember to tell us?"

"I probably won't. You're going to have to remind me. Besides, if you don't ask me, how will I know if you're even interested anymore?"

Hermione replied after that that Harry's logic made no sense, but by that time the discussion had exhausted his elderly mind and he said no more. He was far too old to argue about anything as asinine as whether he was making sense or not. Besides, he ha-

"It's about time you got here!" yelled Draco's voice, effectively cutting off Harry's train of thought, "I was about ready to pack up and leave."

"Leave? Leave for where?" Harry's unused voice questioned and cracked.

"Wherever I damn well please," was the irascible answer, "You think this cell is holding me back? Why, I could go from this corner to that one over there and the guards wouldn't even have the opportunity to stop me." Draco was always very touchy about his imprisonment. He usually requested Harry to join his delusion and pretend the cell was little more than a beaded curtain separating him from the civilized world. More often than not, Harry obliged him. It just made the conversation go smoother.

"Why, I bet you could run from here to Liverpool before the guards even caught wise."

"What? Are you crazy? These bars are fortified with magic! It would take thirty wands to even make a dent!" the imprisoned boy yelled, amazed at his partner's lack of perception. Confused, Harry simply cocked an eyebrow, "But, I thought you just said that the cell wasn't holding you back."

"It isn't!" Draco asseverated, "Who said it is?"

Harry groaned, "You did, Draco! Not more than a minute ago!"

Not impressed, Draco dismissed Harry's comment with a wave of his hand, "Forget what I said. It's not important. Can we get this show on the road?"

Harry knew exactly what he was talking about, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that. Hand me the cloak."

Harry sighed and pulled the invisibility cloak from under his robes to hand to Draco once the guard walked away, "You're lucky you aren't in Main Azkaban or this plan never would have worked."

Draco nodded in agreement and waited for the guard to walk by again before hiding himself under the cloak. The truth of the matter was that Draco, along with all the other war criminals, had been moved into a separate wing of Azkaban built just for them so that they could be watched more closely. Unfortunately, two months after that, a large massacre had occurred with a sizable gang of Death-Eater Wannabes and most guards had been moved to watch them in Main Azkaban. Most of the War Criminals were moderately to severely insane at this point anyways, so of what use was it to watch them drool in a corner? And, all that left the War Criminal Wing appallingly unprotected. So much so that this fairly simplistic escape plan had gone off so far without a hitch.

"Guards! Guards!" Harry screamed and squeaked once Draco was completely covered. Two portly guards rushed over and stared at amazement at the empty room. Now, cells were impervious to all sorts of magic, including apparition so the guards were at a lack to explain what was going on.

"He just disappeared!" Harry continued, looking appropriately frightened and startled. One guard blew the whistle signifying a prison break while the other opened the cell to see if he had somehow gotten out of the window. While they did that, Draco snuck his way out the cell and pressed himself as close as possible to Harry's side as more and more guards barreled past.

After a few minutes or so, however, the guard that had let Harry in walked over to him reluctantly and asked him if he had anything to do with this in a clearly skeptical tone. Harry looked affronted, "Why on Earth would I help him escape? He'll just try to kill me again!" The guard looked convinced at that, considering he had been there for the first murder attempt, and gratefully walked away--happy the interrogation had ended so quickly. And the minute that guard left, another walked up, one Harry had known from the war as well--an unyielding, cold, steely young man by the name of Neville Longbottom--and told him harshly to leave at once so the guards could do their work. Harry complied at once with Draco snickering quietly in his ear as they walked.

"I _will_ just try to kill you again," he said mirthfully, but Harry chose to ignore it. It was nothing he didn't know already, anyways. And they ran from there to Liverpool before the guards even caught wise.

----------------------------------------------------

Yea... I don't care if you flame this, criticize every word, or hate it too much to bear, just PLEASE review! One review! That's all I ask for! Pleeeeease!


End file.
